Hero
by awordycontradiction
Summary: "How much do you know about this stuff?" He asked. "Pieces, half of it is like a dream." She looked away. "Yeah, well guess what, the other half is like a freaking nightmare!"
1. Chapter 1

Stiles laid on his bed, drained, useless and alone. He heard his phone go off again a moment before, Scott asking where he was, if he was okay, what he was doing. After the fifth one, Stiles just stopped looking. He was weak, weaker than he had felt in weeks. He was so, so useless. He nuzzled his head into the pillow below him. Maybe if he suffocated then things wouldn't feel so bad. A loud knock landed on his bedroom door. He sighed to himself. He was fine. He wasn't going to give a description of the "lacrosse players" who beat him up. His dad needed to let that one go. Or Stiles could have thought of a better lie, he thought bitterly while creating larger frown lines on his face.

"_Dad, I said I'm fine." _

But he wasn't. His father knew it too. The knocking started again, and Stiles felt even more frustrated. He didn't want to have to sit and lie to his father. He didn't want to pretend that it wasn't out of control and out of his hands and too big for him or even the almighty werewolves to handle. He didn't want to yell or break down or anything like that. He just wanted to sit and feel bad for himself, something he had not been doing enough of, obviously. He bit back a comment while getting off his warm bed. His bruised cheek felt that rush of clean, cool air pass over it, and Stiles immediately missed the warmth of his pillow. He muttered something under his breath as he walked to the door and pulled it open with more force than he really should have been using. But any sarcastic, misplaced remark he was about to spit at his dad came crashing down with the feverish beating of his heart and his attractive deer in the headlights look.

"_Hi."_

"_Hi."_

Lydia Martin was standing at his door. Not his front door, but his bedroom door. The earth was about to fall beneath him, Stiles just knew it. She looked so broken, alone and had been crying. His look must have triggered something in her because she clarified for him.

"_Your father let me in." _

"_Of course he did." _

Because misery _loved_ company. Stiles thought mockingly. He stared at her, one hand gripping the door for dear life, praying that he wasn't going to wake up from some crazy dream. Did the girl of his dreams need to be here, right at this very moment, with his face looking like a truck hit it, and his usual disposition flattened with the weight of the world?

"_What happened to your-?"_

"_Oh, uh, yeah, It's nothing. Don't worry about it, I'm fine." _

Though he wasn't, and he didn't suspect that she cared much. Lydia Martin doesn't just casually stop by his house in the middle of the night to ask what happened to his face. Lydia Martin barley every looked at his face. Stiles wanted to smile at the irony, but he thought against it. Even as he finished his sentence he had already lost her attention. How was that even possible? But she looked so fragile that he couldn't turn her away. What was one more minute pretending in the grad scheme of things anyway, right?

"_Do you wanna come in?" _

She didn't answer, only managed half a smile that was completely forced, though he didn't blame her, her ex boyfriend just died, and walked passed him into the room. As she passed Stiles could notice that she was practically folding into herself. This wasn't the Lydia he knew, this was just a shell of the girl he loved, and her soul, her heart was somewhere else entirely. Why else would she bee at his door?

"_How you doin'?" _

Stiles asked, she hadn't turned around as he shut his door quietly. It was a stupid question but Stiles was in a stupid mood. The girl with her back turned to him was clearly detached and a complete mess. Her eyes were puffy, her whole body shook. Stiles stepped closer as he heard her intake of breath.

"_They won't let me see him."_

Oh, of course, Jackson. Stiles thought defeatedly. There was no chance in hell that the girl he loved would be there for_ him_. It surprisingly didn't sting as badly as it should have, considering. Maybe it was Stiles just refusing to believe in the reality of it. Jackson was dead, for now. His dad had filled him in on that part after he changed out of his lacrosse gear. Sheriff Stilinski feared the same fate was his sons. Stiles didn't want his dad to ever go through that again. Part of Stiles didn't think Jackson was going to stay that way, though. He beat the odds more times than Stiles wanted to admit. He saw Lydia's body shake a bit harder, she was crying now.

"_I'm supposed to give him something, he kept asking for it back." _

What was he asking for? What the hell was she talking about? Stiles saw Lydia slowly reach into her pocket and pull out something small, he couldn't tell what it was from his position but he really didn't need to know either. It didn't make sense, what did Jackson need now, being dead and all? Before he could ask her any of his nagging questions she started to cry harder, clutching the small item in her hands and sobbed, right there in the middle of his bedroom. Stiles sighed and lightly grabbed hold of her arm, whispering and humming to her as gently as he could be right now. His shushing and soft stokes calmed her down a bit, and he tugged on her sleeve, wordlessly telling her to sit. On his bed. He tried not to think of the fact that Lydia Martin was sitting on his unmade bed, drowning herself in a pool of her own tears. He quickly left the room.

"_Hey, sorry, I didn't have any tissues, so uh.." _

Stiles felt stupid, who didn't have tissues? But as he offered her the fresh role of toilet paper he saw her crack what he would consider a smile. He took it as a small advance as she took the roll from him.

"_It's fine." _

She sniffled while pulling off a generous amount of bath tissue.

"_God, I am such a mess." _

She mumbled into the toilet paper. Stiles didn't know what to say. In his experience, saying nothing was the best option. It didn't help the situation that he was feeling the exact same way. Stiles just stare ahead, thinking of all the things that he really didn't want to be thinking of, especially right now, with Lydia in his room, sitting on his bed, acting like a human being towards him. His cell phone went off again. Lydia aggressively snapped for the phone, which was in her lap.

"_You have seventeen miss messages from Scott." _

She ticked, sounding almost annoyed by it. Stiles wanted to know why his cell phone was in her lap more than what Scott had to say to him. It was probably another _'why aren't you answering me?' _text. It probably wasn't important. And even if it was, he was busy, he was trying to forget about it. Lydia was just staying longer than he had expected. He had expected her to run the moment he opened the door, and then again when he handed her a roll of toilet paper in substitution of tissues. But she was still right there beside him, handing him his phone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"_I know." _

"_Are you ignoring him?" _

Stiles could actually hear curiosity in her voice.

"_No, no not really." _

But she got up, already bored with the conversation before it started. It wasn't like Stiles wanted to talk about his feelings, especially not with Lydia, but it would be nice if the girl would let someone finish a damn thought before jumping into something different. She sauntered her way towards Stiles' desk and Stiles sat and tried to breathe normally, tried to act like his normal self, how he would normally interact with Lydia Martin. Though he didn't have much to compare this to, Stiles was pretty certain that this was the most normal he had ever been with Lydia and the girl hadn't even noticed. He wasn't his usual self, he wasn't jumping off the walls or talking a mile a minute. Neither of them were in their usual character at the moment. It made Stiles really sad. They weren't even acting like themselves and still things didn't fit the right way. It was like pulling teeth to get Lydia to talk, all she did was cry and it took everything in Stiles not to just fall back on his bed and call it a night. He was so drained.

"_Why do you have woman's jewelry?" _

"_Oh, nothing, that's just some stuff I bought, for your birthday." _

"_For me?" _

She looked genuinely shocked about that. Lydia knew how Stiles felt about her, but she just never thought he would go to such extremes. There had to be at least ten pieces of jewelry on his desk.

"_Yeah, I just- I kinda didn't know what to get you, so I just brought you a bunch of stuff. Like a lot of stuff. You know, I was gonna return anything that I didn't give you." _

He didn't know why he was being so open about it. He knew she would definitely run out the door this time, and maybe that was what he wanted, for her to leave. He wasn't in the right mindset to entertain the love of his life and Stiles probably would have said anything she asked at this moment. He just no longer had the fight in him. She laughed though, to his up most surprise, even gave a small smile before ducking her head. It made him feel good, really good, to be able to be the reason for that smile.

Her phone going off changed the subject. Stiles knew it was her phone because he threw his back into the sea of his sheets, where it belonged until he knew what to do about everything and more so his feelings in regards to everything. He no longer wanted to play second best, he was sick of being the one to slow everything down and ruin plans and no be able to save his father from some stupid camera creep, or save Erica from good_ 'ole_ grandpa Argent. He didn't want to talk to Scott until everything was figured out up in his head. Stiles just didn't know when that was going to be exactly.

"_You're gonna wanna read this." _

Cryptic, Lydia? Stiles thought while glancing at her before down at her cell phone. Something inside him snapped, not fully, but breaking. He could almost feel the threads of his sanity splinter inside him. His grip tightened on the phone, and an overwhelming feeling of oblivion washed over him. She knew exactly what Jackson was. Whoever the hell texted her, whatever the message _'It's time to save him.'_ was supposed to mean it had Stiles Stilinski thinking the worse. He threw her phone down on the bed, his pulse racing while trying to control his voice.

"_How much do you know about this stuff?" _

"_Pieces, half of it is like a dream." _

"_Yeah, well guess what, the other half is like a freaking nightmare." _

"_I don't care, I can help him." _

That is when it hit Stiles, she was playing coy and not giving too much away. She was determined and so unbelievably out of her mind that she couldn't see that it was all too dangerous, too risky, too much for Stiles to handle right now. She had this look in her eyes, like the one he recognized within himself, one that he wore well, wore often. She was setting herself up to risk everything for a kid who hardly deserved it. He wasn't going to think about how she was so suddenly clued into the inner supernatural workings of Beacon Hills, part of him didn't really want to know. He didn't want to ask who the mysterious texter was, Stiles was afraid of the answer. She had been acting so weird, and now she was here, in front of him, saying she was going to go risk her life on a plan that might not even work. A plan Stiles had yet to be filled in on. Who cares if Jackson is a dead kanima or a dead human? Either way he was going to have to die. Derek wasn't going to let him continue living, Gerard was going to cause problems, Stiles knew that, but nothing Gerard did would change the fact that Jackson was a monster now, and Lydia was never getting him back.

"_See, that's the problem. You don't care about getting hurt." _

Stiles could feel himself tense, he could see the set in her eyes, the way she stood a little taller, even as uncharacteristic as she appeared to be, Lydia Martin was still Lydia Martin.

"_But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated, and if you die.." _

"_I will literally go out of my freaking mind." _

Stiles was really getting sick of this truth thing. He wanted to keep some secrets to himself. Lydia was a smart girl, she should have been able to read between the lines already, it was how Stiles assumed she found out about the werewolves. Allison practically gave her everything she needed to figure out what Jackson was, it wasn't all that hard now that he thought about it. She gave him a blank look.

"_You see death doesn't happen to you Lydia, it happens to everyone around you. Okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now, without you in it." _

He couldn't stop if he tried. He needed to show her, needed to prove to Lydia that anything she would do would just be in vain. She had no control over the situation, just like him. They were human, they were nothing in this fight. Jackson couldn't be saved. Neither could Erica or Boyd or even Allison who had lost her mind somewhere down the line. They were all trapped in this screwed up situation, powerless and hellbent on doing something to make it right. In trying to talk some sense into Lydia, Stiles found himself projecting all this feelings, all the emotions he bottled up tight, all his insecurities, the images of a younger Stiles at his mothers funeral, wondering how he was going to move passed that, he threw it all at Lydia, he didn't know what he would do if he lost her too, and he told her as much. She faltered a bit, he saw some tears swell in her green eyes again.

"-and look at my face, huh? Come on, you think this was actually meant to hurt me?"

He demanded, stepping closer, all his movements sharper than he could have dreamed. Lydia stepped back, naturally the reaction one would take to be bombarded by someone. Stiles blinked. Crap. He stepped back, shocked, clearly, it was all over his face. He never meant to say all of that, he didn't want it to go that far, he only wanted Lydia not to do something stupid, but the almost fear in her eyes, the fear he put there was almost sending her away all by itself.

"_Oh.. I'm so sorry, I-" _

"_It's okay." _

"_I'll find him myself." _

He finally sent her running, and all it took was Stiles to be Stiles.


	2. Chapter 2

She had left in such a hurry she forgot her phone. Stiles felt like an idiot. He didn't know why he snapped at her like that. Lydia was just doing what she thought was right, just like how Stiles was doing the exact same thing. He was sitting at his desk, sleep the furthest thing from his mind and looked at Lydia's phone in his hand. Hers was almost identical to his, he could barley tell them apart. He didn't know why he was fooling around with Lydia's phone, maybe in the hopes that she would come back for it, so that he could explain himself, not apologize, he meant what he said, just explain to her, in a calmer way, of course. Stiles was so wrapped in his thoughts he barely registered his fathers presence. The man had been hovering since Stiles came home looking like hell had spit him back up.

"_She left, huh?"  
"Yeah.." _

"_So, is there anything there?" _

"_No.. no, she's in love with someone else." _

And it killed Stiles to admit that, because just for a moment, the moment she stood at his bedroom door with her doe eyes that were never so innocent and her pouty bottom lip, he thought that maybe she realized that he was there for a reason, that his world didn't revolve around catering to Lydia's every need because he was some creepy lovesick fool. He acted the way he did because he genuinely cared about her, and wanted what was best for her. He wasn't saying that he was the one, or that they were meant to be, though Stiles did like to think that way on occasion, he just didn't want to see her die, especially not for Jackson. Knowing that he had the opportunity to say something, to maybe open her eyes, show her how crazy she had sounded, he didn't regret taking that chance.

His dad left, reciting that Stiles was a _hero_, though the sixteen year old didn't buy that for a second. Winning a lacrosse game in the middle of a werewolf Armageddon wasn't really the greatest achievement known to man, but he was sick of feeling sorry for himself, and Stiles needed to do something. His father thought he wad something special, so for the moment so would Stiles. Lydia's phone had went off a few moments after Sheriff Stilinski left Stiles' bedroom, and after seeing exactly where things would be taking place and knowing in his heart that he couldn't stop Lydia, he went to find her. He called to his dad before he left, and though the older man frowned, clearly not amused with his son's disappearing acts, he knew what he had said left some sort of an impact, and he only hoped Stiles would see himself clearly from it.

He drove around for about fifteen minutes with no avail. Lydia wasn't at her house, or walking the streets. After looking everywhere he could think of, he made his way to the school right after a quick stop at the hospital, talking to Mrs. McCall and getting briefed. Scott and Issac _stole_ Jackson. They were heading to Derek, the text had said the subway station. He let his car drive onto the field. It was deserted, it was also three in the morning. The lights on the field were dulled, not their usual bright glow. Stiles felt a new sense of energy stepping back onto the lacrosse field. He had just been there, just won the championship for Beacon Hills, maybe his dad was right, maybe that did mean something. It had certainly meant something to Lydia when she gave him that look of sheer adoration only just a few hours ago, and then that look turned hard and stubborn. He found her there, like he knew he would she was sitting on her knees, crying, most likely. She didn't' even flinch when he walked up to her.

"_Lydia, come on, get up." _

"_What do you want now?" _

She asked between sobs, she looked up at him, her makeup completely running now.

"_Why are you crying? Did something happen?" _

"_This is where he died." _

Lydia whispered, her hands lightly caressing the spot on the muddy ground. Stiles didn't know that part, he only knew that Jackson was hurt, and Mrs. McCall had stated that he stabbed himself. Stiles looked down, searching for blood, or anything to prove that the teen had been here, but nothing was left but a crying red head and Stiles' patients of steel.

"_Come on Lydia, I am going to help you, lets go save him." _

Stiles couldn't bring himself to say his name. _His,_ being Jackson's, he just knew that this was who he was and what he did, he helped people, and right now, no matter how dense and out of her mind Lydia was being, she needed his help. He gently placed her phone back into Lydia's hand and stood, offering her a help up. She sniffed before accepting his outstretched arm. The message had said the subway station. She remembered going there, remembered knocking out Derek Hale. Did Stiles know that part? She looked up into his eyes and there was only sincerity and maybe a little stubbornness, his mouth was set in an increasing frown, but he wasn't yelling at her anymore, so she took that as a small victory.

"_He isn't dead." _

Stiles had mumbled, still not using Jackson's name. They were now in his jeep, heading towards the subway station that she barley remembered how to get to. With the mention of Jackson being alive, a new fire arose in Lydia. Peter was right, she really could save his life. She smiled lightly to herself and looked at Stiles who was concentrating rather obsessively on the dark road. He wasn't going to talk about it, and she really didn't want to either. She was just thankful that he came back for her, though she really didn't have a doubt that he would, eventually. Stiles was too good a person to let someone sit in pain. She knew he hated Jackson, she knew everyone hated him. She even hated him, but there was a part of her that loved him even more, he was her first love, he meant something special and no matter what he did, who he killed, that wasn't the Jackson that she knew, she just wanted Stiles to see that.

"_So what's the plan, Lydia? Because I gotta tell ya, I'm really confused." _

Lydia rubbed her lips together and looked out the window. She actually didn't have one. Peter had told her that it would just come to her, that when she was faced with Jackson, she'd know what to do. The key burned a whole in her pocket, it had something to do with all this, she knew it did. But how was she supposed to say that to Stiles? How was she supposed to fill him in on how she was going to risk her life, because that was what she was doing, she wasn't stupid, she knew that saving him out weighed everything else at the moment. He wouldn't hurt her. She knew he wouldn't.

"_I'll talk to him." _

She'll _talk _to him. Dear god were they screwed. Stiles bit back a snarl and stepped on the gas, forcing himself not to make a U turn right now, forcing himself not to pull over on the side of the road and scream at her again, literally shake sense into her. But he couldn't do that, because looking at her, seeing that blissful ignorance, he saw himself and exactly what he would have done if this whole situation was reversed, if Lydia has turned out to be the kanima after all. He doubt Jackson would be here right now in the car with him, racing to save her life, but he wouldn't mention that. It wasn't his place, he was the driver, the friend, the person to power up the sunset that they could walk off into when this whole screwed up situation was over with.

They rolled up to the station, the entrance barricaded by two large trucks. The Argent's were here. _Great._ Stiles thought bitterly. He reversed, quickly having an idea. Lydia wanted to be reckless, so would he. He licked his lips while positioning his jeep at one of the aluminum plates that stretched across the flimsy wall. Lydia gave him a panicked look.

"_Stiles...?" _

"_Hold on."_

He nearly growled, knowing that this wasn't going to end well for his poor jeep and gunned the engine, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal as hard as he could. The jeep accelerated, causing both teens to fly back into their seats. He heard the screeching of his tires, and the gasp from Lydia but nothing else. He saw the kanima through the blind of his headlights, a big green lizard monster was pretty hard to miss. He went right for him. Nothing seemed to kill the kid anyway. The jeep crashed into something hard, and immediately stopped. Stiles hands didn't leave the wheel and his eyes wouldn't open. That was a rush, his heart was beating, he could hear Lydia's breathing just as affected.

"_Did I hit him?" _

He asked squinting one eye open through his panting. He saw Scott through Lydia's window, he saw his best friend smiling, and part of him was so relieved to see Scott that nothing else mattered. But then Jackson jumped onto the roof making both teens inside jump. Stiles let out a scream that he wasn't too proud of and Lydia quickly opened the door, rushing out. Stiles followed. But as Stiles ran from the kanima, quickly towards Scott who pat him on the back, Lydia stood face to face with that monster.

"_Jackson!" _

Upon hearing Lydia calling his name, Stiles immediately turned around. She stood, breathing heavily over a hunched over kanima, and as he stood tall, his clawed hand raising, to strike her, she called out again.

"_Jackson!"_

"_Lydia!"_

Stiles yelled, rushing from behind his best friend back towards her. She was going to get herself killed. But Scott stopped him, holding him back as both watched on with curious expressions, Lydia raised the small item she had been clutching in his room earlier towards Jackson's view. It was a key. What the hell? A key was going to save her life right now? But while Stiles looked on, ready to rush over at any moment, Jackson let his clawed and scaly arm drop, looking back at her, at peace. Magically, the scales started to fade, the slitted eyes and the large, venomous tale disappeared leaving Jackson Whittmore looking a little more normal. He was now staring at Lydia with intensity, taking the key from her and stepping back. Stiles didn't know what was going on, and he was pretty sure no one else did either. Derek rose to his feet and lunged towards Jackson, as did someone from the shadows across the room. Stiles noticed it to be Peter Hale and it was like the wind was knocked out of him. Peter Hale? Peter Hale was back, helping Derek? The two werewolves sliced through Jackson's human skin, now easily to be wounded, as Lydia gasped from a foot away. They were killing him, just like Stiles knew they would. Having Lydia there did nothing, and as Jackson's dying body gave out, Lydia was there to grab him.

She didn't know what was going on, she didn't know why they just did that. Peter had told her that she would save him, that it wouldn't have to come down to this, but he stood there, with Derek Hale stabbing Jackson. Lydia started crying, seeing the helplessness in his eyes. He was going to die on her. She was stunned. He looked at her, they were eye to eye now and she saw him. Not the monster of her nightmares, not the thing that nearly tried to attack her before, but Jackson.

"_Do, do you still..?" _

"_I do, I do still love you." _

That was it for Stiles who stood in the shadows, keeping his distance behind his werewolf best friend. It had to be pushing five in the morning now, a new day, he was suddenly unbelievably more tired than he had ever been in his life. Listening as the girl he loved confessed her love to a dying boy only feet away from him was just the icing on top of the school year from hell.

"_I do, I do, I do still love you." _

She repeated between her increasing sobs. Jackson's head fell into the crook of her shoulder and Lydia's hand immediately cradled his head. She couldn't believe it. All this, everything she had went through and he was just going to die in her arms. This was not the right ending. This wasn't the Nicholas Sparks novel she wanted. Lydia's cries only lengthened as she laid her ex boyfriends now lifeless body on the cold cement floor. She heard her friends talking in the background but nothing was more important.

Stiles didn't' care if Gerard got away, he didn't care that Peter Hale was somehow alive and he didn't care that he just witnessed probably the most heart wrenching confession of his young life. Stiles only cared about the strawberry blonde who was walking towards them right now, her body was shaking, her tears blurring the look in her eyes, though Stiles could only imagine it to be devastation, and he slowly walked towards her, since no one else was going to, and since it was somehow his unannounced job. But it was more than that, he wanted to, he knew what death was like, he knew how it could make people feel, for god sake it made Allison jump off the deep end. He didn't want that to happen to Lydia, she had already been through so much. But he never made it to her, Stiles never got to his girl because there was an unsettling sound coming from the vicinity where Jackson was. Everyone stopped, no one breathed, Lydia snapped back around to face the dead boy while Stiles retreated back to his place behind Scott.

Jackson sat up straight, his eyes a magnificent blue. Lydia felt her heart beat, after several agonizing moments of death, for herself as well. He was alive. She didn't know how that was possible and she didn't really care. Jackson was alive, his chest was rising, his eyes open, he rose to his feet, something different about him, something that she knew but couldn't possibly believe, even after everything that had happened. He gave a loud, earth shaking howl, and then it was over, every eye in the room captivated by him, exactly something Jackson would have wanted. Lydia found herself running to him, crying, again, but this time tears of joy. She tried to catch her breath as his arms finally encircled her, after so long, she was back in his arms, his heart pounding harshly against her, every inch of him somehow tighter, stronger. He was breathing heavily too as he rested his head on Lydia's shoulder.

He was looking right at Stiles. He had to know, it wasn't hard to tell, his face felt warm with the dampness of his own hot tears. He was drained, he didn't cry. Stiles told himself to just breathe, everything would be alright. But it wouldn't, Lydia had done the impossible. She saved Jackson and that wasn't going to go without an I told you so and about a dozen hopeless dreams for Stiles. He felt it, everyone around him, they all had someone to lean on, Scott was only an inch or two in front of him and yet Stiles had never felt more alone. Part of him wished he was still back in his room, bruiting and feeling sorry for himself, at least there, he would know that his father was safe, and there he wouldn't have had to endure the last few minutes of his life. He would have been able to pretend that there was a chance that Lydia could still fall for him, and not have to watch Jackson hold her, like he possessed her. Though Stiles knew that wasn't what he was doing, he just couldn't help but be bitter. The bastard got everything he wanted. He wanted to be a werewolf, and here he was. He felt like stringing along Lydia Martin, now he got the opportunity back. Stiles couldn't just stand there any longer. As he made his attempt to leave Scott looked at him, with all the unspoken sympathy that a best friend is supposed to give. But Stiles didn't want it. He just needed to get out of there. He felt suffocated, isolated and so utterly broken that he wasn't even sure he'd be able to drive his jeep home without forgetting how to shift. Stiles stared back at Scott, wiping at his face.

"_He scratched my jeep." _

It was lame, Stiles knew that, he also know that Scott definitely didn't believe him, but at the moment, the only concern was making his way to his jeep with some dignity. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his track pants, pretending to be looking for his keys, though it was only to obscure the shaking of his hands. His keys were still in the engine. Jackson didn't give him a chance to retrieve them earlier. He passed the embracing couple with a pang of jealousy. All this, all this work, all this lying and life threatening situations, all of it came right down to this. Jackson being okay and holding Lydia in his arms. It just wasn't fair. Stiles tried to open his driver side door, and after a few tugs it opened. He hopped in and started the jeep. The engine roared, it was the only sound in the room. He looked up, to see if anyone noticed and Lydia was staring at him through the dashboard window. She was looking at him, still crying, still clutched onto Jackson, but a smile was on her lips, and he knew without her saying it, that it was for him. He wanted to smile back, wanted to act like this didn't matter and he was only helping out a friend, but that was a lie and for what Stiles could control, he was done lying. He reversed the jeep, staring at her the whole backwards drive out of there.

He didn't' even think she noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two week. Stiles had focused all his energy on practicing lacrosse. He went to the field with Scott on the days he wasn't with Derek coming up with a plan to defeat this new evil force in their lives. Scott didn't really talk about it with Stiles, knowing that his friend really wasn't ready to hear about it. And that was okay with Stiles. He was okay with being ignorant and focusing on something that was real, and human and something he could control. The days that Scott was busy his dad brought him into their yard and would toss the ball on the ground, insuring Stiles that he needed to be able to retrieve the ball first before anything else. Stiles rolled his eyes, but knew that his dad was right. Also in the last two weeks Stiles had developed an unusual addiction to coffee. It wasn't going to help with his already jittery disposition and after reading what not to take his medication with, he switched to decaf. He found this small coffee shop in town that he had never seen before and he would go in there sometimes and just sit, drink his decaf coffee and not think about werwolves or Lydia, especially Lydia, because she was the reason he started to drink coffee. It was like every time he closed his eyes he saw her with Jackson. There was no way he was going to get over her if he saw her behind his eyelids every other second. So sleep was lacking, but coffee had been helping. It was there in that nameless coffee shop that he had run into Allison, he hadn't talked to her in weeks, and the night when Jackson turned he wasn't in the mindset to even look at her. They met there a few times, she explained that she was going to work on herself, and asked if Scott was really okay with the break up, and Stiles told her about how hard it was to lose a parent, and that he was sorry, since he never actually got a chance. It was nice, talking to Allison about something normal, not that death was normal, it was terrible actually, it was just different than all the other stuff going on in their lives. Stiles never told Scott about meeting up with Allison, partially because the girl asked, the other part of him didn't say anything because he liked to have something to keep to himself, other than his anger and the constant gripping annoyance that he was inadequate to be apart of something so big. Allison didn't make him feel like that. Allison was human too, Stiles and Allison were more alike than they ever thought.

It was on that one afternoon when Stiles was supposed to practice grounding balls with his father that everything started to surface. It was when the sun was setting that he had received the call that his dad was working late. Stiles didn't mind being alone, it was just that for two weeks he didn't have the time to think, he was either with Scott or his dad playing lacrosse or Allison having their own dead mothers club. He was able to chose to do something else, not worry about what was up with Scott and Derek or what was keeping his father late at work, and especially what Lydia was doing. He hadn't spoken to her since the night he drove away. He assumed she was spending all her time with Jackson, in Stiles mind they were back in their honeymoon phase, going to dinner, watching movies, having unsupervised sleep overs. Stiles shuttered, falling back into one of his moods.

He didn't want to be bitter about it, he didn't want to feel like a selfish kid who didn't get what he wanted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to pretend that everything was rainbows in the presents of Lydia Martin. She broke his heart. He knew what he had told Scott, that he'd wait for her, that his ten year plan to woo Lydia Martin would stretch itself to fifteen. But by then she would be in an ivy league school, on her way to rule the world and Stiles would still be right here in Beacon Hills, tricking his dad into eating veggie burgers and googling werewolves.

It was when it was almost too dark to see that he realized he had been sitting out in his yard for far too long. It was the sound of crunching sticks that brought him out of his pity party. He looked to the left, in the direction of his back gate, thinking Scott was going to show up, climb up the lattice rose vine his mother hand put up years ago to get to his room. But it wasn't Scott, and it wasn't a robber, Stiles frowned, almost sad that there wasn't somebody coming to invade his home.

"_Hi, Stiles." _

"_Lydia." _

His voice was tight, his posture no longer relaxed. He started to think that the reason he hadn't seen her was because he hadn't been thinking about her, but now, here she was, in his yard. She _was_ a home invader, tainting his private space with her presence. First his bedroom, now his yard.

"_How are you, I.. I haven't seen you in a while." _

"_I'm fine, Lydia. Did you need something?" _

"_Yes, actually." _

She sat down next to him, Stiles was being cold, obviously so, and she wasn't taking the hint, or she was just ignoring it, in typical Lydia Martin fashion. She got comfortable on his back porch steps.

"_I don't know what I did wrong, okay, but I'm sorry for it. I thought we were making our way towards friends, and then after that night, you fell off the face of the earth. What did I do?" _

Stiles felt a sensation in the pit of his stomach, he wanted to laugh. Was she serious?

"_Lydia, we're not friends. You just needed me to help you get Jackson back, and I did. Okay, it's over now. You can stop pretending. And I'm not looking for an apology, so you can go now." _

Lydia had never heard Stiles be so cruel to her. Even when he was yelling at her that night in his bedroom he wasn't as cold as this. She couldn't see it in his eyes, that look he always used to have when they talked, like his life was being made, now his eyes held some sort of resentment. Lydia sighed and looked to the sky. She didn't want to leave like this, she had been worried about him for weeks now.

"_God, aren't the stars gorgeous tonight?" _

Lydia went to change the subject, Stiles just felt nothing.

"_I haven't brought myself to look at the sky in I can't tell you how long." _

He laughed, a bitter sad sound. Lydia frowned while looking away, not at the sky again, but not at Stiles either. She didn't know what to say, how to handle all this. She came to Stiles because she didn't know where else to go, what else to do to make him feel better. But here they were, making even less progress than they had before Lydia could remember his name. Scott had told her to talk to him, if she wanted answers. Scott didn't want to get involved, though he wasn't acting too warmly towards her either. Scott and Stiles were supposed to be her friends, since Allison locked herself away all she had was Jackson, and even he was distancing himself, spending his time with Derek Hale. Lydia had always loved the night sky, she had always loved stars and forcing Jackson to sit out with here and watch them. He didn't see the novelty and Lydia frowned, thinking that Stiles_ would _have. Though he did have good reason, he didn't like the sky because he didn't like the moon and everything that came with it. Lydia wondered if she would feel the same after Jackson started turning during them.

It was all going to come back to Jackson, she thought sadly. Stiles didn't like him, and he never would.

"_I'm not acting like this to be a jerk, Lydia." _

"_I hate being mean to you, but I can't just pretend nothing happened. I'm not going to anymore." _

Stiles mumbled, his voice a little stronger than before. Lydia noticed Stiles fidgeting with a thin stick from the ground around them. His fingers rubbed the course bark debating how much to reveal about his current mindset, how much to not burden her with. He had her, she was right there, waiting to listen. She wasn't leaving, or making an excuse, she was with him, to actually talk to him, not concoct a half ass plan to salvage Jackson's soul, not to talk about their best friend's love lives. Just here, sitting with him in the middle of Stiles' backyard. So, he took the chance, said what he had only dreamed of, what he had been imagining when he closed his eyes each night for a restless sleep.

"_I... I have had these feelings for you, for so long. And they have gotten me no where. Maybe if I had told you how I felt when we were eight none of this would have happened. Things might have been different. I wouldn't feel like this, Lydia." _

"_What do you feel?" _

"_Like the worlds ended." _

Lydia looked away. She had to have known coming here would end like this, make her feel like a monster because she didn't love Stiles Stilinski. It wasn't like she did it on purpose. She met Jackson first, Jackson had all the qualities she was looking for in a boyfriend. Not Stiles. She had finally gotten Jackson back, and things were good between them. She didn't' wand to apologize for that.

"_and I don't want you to go feel guilty about this. Okay? It's my own fault." _

But Lydia did feel guilty, because she knew how he felt. Hadn't he pretty much told he he'd be miserable if she died? She imagined it to be how she felt when she thought Jackson was. Lydia sighed and looked to the ground. That was a feeling she never wanted to endure again. But here Stiles was, living it over and over and she wasn't helping the situation. There was only one thing she could do.

"_I'm gonna go, but I am sorry, Stiles."_

Lydia got up, looking at the boy she had just been sitting next to.

"_and who knows? When school starts again, maybe we could try being friends." _

Stiles nodded silently, not even looking at her as she left. He knew he was being stubborn and she was actually trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't just the fact that she didn't love him or appreciate him. It wasn't the fact that he knew she was going right back to Jackson, or that he'd spend a whole summer without her in it. It was the fact that she lied, that she was the one that brought Peter Hale back to life and she wasn't going to tell him. He had to find out from Scott who found out from Derek. Friendship was based on trust and though Stiles loved her, and knew it wasn't going to be easy getting over Lydia, at the moment, he didn't trust her, and he wasn't sure he could ever let himself. Because Stiles was sick of being let down and he was sick of never coming first, to anyone. He knew that he deserved better and knowingly or not, Lydia Martin had just given him the confidence to move forward.

Or at least, he was going to try.


End file.
